Therapy With Doctor Lecter
by MaskedLover23
Summary: They said she had a problem. She didn't want to believe them. Hannibal "helped" her to see her problem. In the end, he fixed her problem right up. -Hannibal Lecter respectfully belongs to Thomas Harris.- Our imaginations belong to us.


**-Warning!-**

**This little one-shot prompt type thing is extreme to the max! Proceed with caution! **

**Necessary items needed in hand when reading this: garbage bag (in case you throw up), stuffed toy (to choke to death from fangirling/fan...guying?), a piece of fabric that can cover your unusual fan noises, and lastly, a box of tissues (for tears, nosebleeds, and... other). **

**Yes, I know that this is going to be really intense, but I've been having this fantasy for the longest time... **

**When reading, I don't care which Hannibal Lecter you choose. Personally, I imagine it with Mads Mikkelsen or Anthony Hopkins... Don't judge. ;)**

**Enjoy! :) **

* * *

"Cecilia, good evening. You may come in," Hannibal Lecter said as he stepped back to make way for her.

Cecilia had been seeing Hannibal Lecter for quite a while now; a week or two. Her previous therapist, Dr. Whiste, referred Cecilia to Hannibal Lecter after months and months of trying to fix her _problem. _

Cecilia snorted. Problem. A bastard of a thought that just bugs your brain and tells you to do things or feel things in order to satisfy it. She didn't have a problem. Her family thought she had a problem. They thought, get this, they _thought, _they _assumed,_ that she was crazy. Cecilia didn't get them. They didn't get her. What they didn't get was that, she didn't need any therapy because she was a clean slate. She had nothing to contaminate her like those filthy miscreants panhandling on the street. No, she was _fiiine. _

Fine like the china sets that her mother kept stored away to prevent any damage. She got many of her looks from her father. His pale blue eyes, his defined cheekbones, his perky nose, and his ears. Pair that with the plump lips of her mother, the hourglass shape, and the cascading locks of brunette hair of her birth giver. The result is a goddess known to many as Cecilia.

"Please," Dr. Lecter started as he unbuckled the button on his suit. "Take a seat."

"As usual, doc," Cecilia said. She slumped onto the leather seat, her dress riding up slightly.

"So-"

"I don't really need this, you know? I'm perfectly fine. I'm not crazy like my shitface mom says I am."

"Well, you've got quite the tongue, Miss Telm."

"Well," she scoffed, "you won't believe the kind of tongue I have, Mister Lecter."

Cecilia eyed him. He was probably the closest thing you could get to finding a perfect man. Crisp suits, primped hair, flawless skin, undamaged teeth, and dark maroon eyes are what made up the undeniably delicious Hannibal Lecter. He had extraordinary tastes in both culinary and fine arts. Dr. Lecter always smelled of fresh herbs. There was no doubt that Cecilia took an interest in the attractive doctor.

"Tell me, Miss Telm-"

"Hannibal, please, I prefer if you call me Cecilia."

"Alright, Cecilia. But to keep this strictly professional for myself, I would appreciate it _very much _if you addressed me as Doctor Lecter."

"Fine," she said. She slipped off her right sandal and brought her foot under her bottom.

Hannibal looked at her as she did this, his breath spiking as he caught a glimpse of her undergarments. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The doctor enjoyed the company of Cecilia Telm. She always sat down with a sweet scent seeping out of her.

"People tend to go to a therapist when they seek help. What is it that you need help with, Cecilia?"

"I told you, Hann- Dr. Lecter, I don't need any of this bullshit. I'm perfectly fine."

"Fine indeed, Cecilia, but why are you here then?"

"I was forced to be here. Forced by my mom. Forced by my brothers. Forced by my aunts and uncles. Forced by everybody. They really think I'm crazy. But I'm not."

"Why do they think you're crazy, Cecilia? What have you done in your past?"

"It's not what I've done, but what has been done to me."

"What happened, Cecilia? Or is the information too intimate for even yourself to admit? Have you accepted what has happened? Or do you just let it pass?"

"Don't talk to me like you know me, Doctor Lecter. What has happened to me is none of your business," Cecilia said.

"Then you are free to leave, _Miss Telm_."

Hannibal looked into her eyes and waited for her departure. He didn't break the eye contact and neither did she. He held it, keeping the view of her smooth skin in his peripheral. Hannibal didn't break the eye contact, he waited for Cecilia to look away. She looked away.

With a subtle satisfied smile, Hannibal said, "Now shall we continue our session? _My way?_"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now tell me, what happened."

"My father left when I was nine."

"He _left?_"

"Left without any notice to me or my mom."

"_My mother and I,_" Hannibal said faintly under his breath.

"Yes, my mother an I."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Angry," Cecilia said. She started to clench her fists, and the leathery sound of her skin peaked Hannibal's ears.

"Are you angry now, Cecilia?" Hannibal asked.

Was she angry now? What her father did happened thirteen years ago, and usually, speaking of him with others didn't bother her. But now, when she was talking with Hannibal, she was reacting very strangely.

"Of course not." She started to blush unexpectedly.

Hannibal saw the blood rushing to her neck and cheeks, and tilted his head slightly. He examined Cecilia's face as she started to blush at nothing.

"Does the thought of your father make you blush, Cecilia? Why are you blushing?" Hannibal questioned. He crossed his legs and rested his laced hands on his lap.

"I hate him," Cecilia said.

"No you don't. You're only saying that because he _left _you. You're knight in shining armor left before he could rescue you from the dragon guarded castle. Am I right, Cecilia? Do you just wish for your father to return on his noble steed and rescue you from your miserable life?

What did you do to fill in that empty space in your heart that your father so greedily tore away? Did you take an interest in some boring everyday hobbies like every young woman, like yourself, would do? Did you go out to find a nice man to _fuck_? Tell me everything, Cecilia...

You are wounded, like that of an animal shot from a hunter. Was your father the hunter, Cecilia? Did he shoot that arrow through you? Are you his game?" Hannibal breathed. "Tell me everything, Cecilia..."

She couldn't respond. She didn't know how to talk. Cecilia looked down at her white knuckled fists.

"I tried to kill a man that looked like my father. I was charged. He later on revealed that he found me to be attractive and asked me out on a date. I punched him when he leaned in.

I tried to calm myself by getting a puppy. It ran away... just like my dad.

Mom says I dream with my eyes open. We come from a very religious background, and she thought I was possessed. She brought me to the clinic, and they ruled me to have a temper. I don't have a temper."

"Of course not," Dr. Lecter said. "You're mother sent you to control your temper?"

"And to release all my stress. She thinks I'm stressed." Cecilia looks back up into his eyes, dark pools of ink.

Dr. Lecter looked at Cecilia's cleanly shaven legs. They gleamed in his lighted room, the calming browns and creams blending in nicely with her shapely legs. His maroon eyes travelled up to her curvy hips, up to her plump breasts, then finally to her distressed face. He enjoyed the look. Her stressed face satisfied him.

"I don't think my therapy is right for you, Cecilia."

"No! I mean... I have nowhere else to turn, Hannibal." Cecilia forgets about what he said. "I need your help."

Hannibal picked up on her change of tone. Once a depressed little animal, now a fierce tiger stalking its prey.

"Tell me, Cecilia, and I don't like a liar, how do you see me?"

A man who has piqued her interest. A man so edible that Cecilia could be considered a cannibal.

"You do understand that if you see me in a sexual way, it'll interfere with your progress?"

A nod.

"Do you imagine me filling in that space that your father left vacant?"

"Yes."

Hannibal's pupils dilated, but it wasn't visible in his pools of ink. Cecilia couldn't read the man, nobody ever could. And he was thankful for that, because nobody would ever know his taboo actions. At the moment, he could see how Cecilia looked at him. Like a piece of meat that she could devour with a sinister smile on her face. How does he know the look? Is it really necessary to explain?

He can do it, yes he can. Nobody will know what happens. This is all behind closed doors. Nobody will hear her screams...

"Hannibal-"

"Miss Telm, I'm going to have to ask you to wait here. Do not move, do not turn around, do not allow your eyes to follow me. Do you understand?" Hannibal unclasped his hands and placed them on the arms of the chair.

Cecilia nodded and whispered a faint, "Yes."

"I can't hear you."

"Yes," Cecilia said clearly.

"Very good." Hannibal stood erect before Cecilia. He bent down to her face and inhaled. "Do. Not. Move."

He rounded her chair and his footsteps echoed behind Cecilia. The sound of a drawer opening, now closing. The footsteps returning, but this time, they stop behind her. The sound of Hannibal's silk charcoal tie slipping, and now tightening around Cecilia's neck. She flinches, but Hannibal hushes her, his voice right beside her ear.

"Do. Not. Move." Hannibal repeats. He circles to the front of Cecilia's chair, one hand guiding the tie around her neck, the other behind his straight back. "Now, you will listen to me. You will not move unless I instruct you to, understood, Cecilia?"

"Yes, sir."

Hannibal crouches in front of her and leans his head towards her now numbed leg. He inhales with his eyes closed.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" Hannibal asks as his senses tingle at the smell of her.

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Hannibal rises, just as a godly figure would when risen from its death. He backs up, tugs at the tie, and leads Cecilia to stand in front of him while he sits there, watching her with those dark devilish eyes.

"Is your father in the room, Cecilia? Will he disturb us?"

"No."

"_Perrrrffffect._"

Hannibal looked at Cecilia expectantly. He eyed his pet with precision. Hannibal went over every dent, every nook and cranny, every imperfection that seemed perfect in his crooked world.

"Sit," Hannibal instructed. He tapped his trousers lightly. He jerked at the tie when Cecilia turned to sit like she would on Santa Claus. "Nope. Try again, little Cecilia."

"I'm not sure of what I should do."

"For such a young and sex crazed woman, you sure are inexperienced, at least for my tastes. Straddle me."

Cecilia lifted her right leg and leaning her knee beside Hannibal's; the numbness replaced by prickling needles. Her left leg followed suit, the sandal slipping and slapping the hardwood floor. Hannibal spread his legs farther apart, causing Cecilia's to follow.

"Comfortable?" Hannibal asked as he kept his free hand on the arm of the chair.

Cecilia nodded. She couldn't look into his eyes. This was crossing far over the lines of a Doctor-Patient relationship.

"Look at me."

Cecilia turned and locked eyes.

"There's no reason for you to look away."

"This crosses over-"

"If you would like to leave, Miss Telm, the door is just over there. I will give you a moment to consider your decisions."

Cecilia pondered. Should she leave? If she does, she could miss out on an opportunity of a lifetime. If she doesn't...

"Now that you'll be staying, you'll have to answer all my questions, yes?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been attracted to me, Miss Telm?"

"Second session with you."

Hannibal took his free hand off of the arm, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Do you wish for me to touch you?"

"Yes."

"I will not. However, I do have something else in mind..."

He pulled out a little capsule and hid it in his palm. He reached under Cecilia's dress, and pushed her moist panties to the side. He slid the little capsule inside her womanhood, then his hand retreated back into the darkness of his suit pocket.

"Now then, Cecilia, do you dream about me?"

"No."

_Bzzt._

Cecilia arched, her hands going to Hannibal's shoulders for stability.

"Wrong answer. Do you dream about me, Cecilia?"

"Yes."

"Have you thought about me in your times of _pleasurrre?_" Hannibal asked.

Cecilia shook her head, expecting the vibration again.

_Bzzt. _

She moaned and started to roll her hips.

"Take your panties off, Cecilia."

She did as he told her to, dropping the wet lingerie between his polished leather Italian shoes.

"Would you like to fuck me, Cecilia? You would like that wouldn't you?"

Cecilia dropped her head between her arms and nodded, preparing for the next buzz. It never came. She started to get frustrated.

"Are you frustrated yet, Cecilia? Are you just begging in your mind for me to plunge into you?"

Cecilia's mind was spinning in pleasure and confusion. How did she get here so quick? Just ten minutes ago, she and Hannibal Lecter were discussing her _problem._ Not that she had one.

"What is your problem?" Hannibal smiled, showing his pearly whites.

"I'm obsessive."

"Obsessive of whom? Your father?"

Cecilia nodded again. She looked up and leaned in for a kiss. He turned away. Rejected.

"No, no, no, Cecilia. This isn't entirely for me, it's for you as well."

He clicked the button.

_Bzzt. _

Click.

_Bzzt. _

Cecilia moaned in undeniable pleasure. "_Hhhhaaannibaaaaallll_," Cecilia whined.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. _

The sweet smell of Cecilia's orgasm filled his nose. His nostrils flared from the excessive amount that entered.

Breathing heavily, her hot breath skimming over Hannibal's neck, Cecilia rested her forehead on Hannibal's broad shoulder. He looked down at his trousers, feeling the cold sensation of the outcome. Cecilia was dripping onto his trousers, and he hissed at the sight.

"Thank you," Cecilia said breathlessly.

Hannibal pushed her away gently, caressing her face. He smiled, showing his small and white ivory teeth. "Your father _left_, Cecilia?"

She looked at him with a curiosity flashing across her features. "Yes."

"He _left?_" Hannibal repeated between his clenched teeth.

Understanding now evident in Cecilia's eyes.

"You're father was terribly rude, Cecilia. I had no other choice."

* * *

All her stress and frustrations were freed from Cecilia after her session with Hannibal Lecter. She no longer had a problem.

Her family pointed fingers at Doctor Lecter after seeing Cecilia. They yelled and pushed with all their will power, tears streaking their faces. But there was no evidence that he was the one who changed her.

Cecilia feared getting another piece of her heart torn away, so, Hannibal voluntarily_ fixed_ her problem.

They were bound to find him either way. The FBI wasn't a herd of fools, that Jack Crawford of theirs was a devoted man.

But for now, in his limited freedom, Hannibal enjoyed his meal. He took a piece of the evenly cooked portion of the heart, and smiled. He opened his mouth of pearly whites and chewed with the sweet smell of Cecilia still in his memory.


End file.
